Their Names
by dorawarrior
Summary: Olorin grieves for those who have long gone. Set approximately a thousand years after the events in the Lord of the Rings


This is my feeble attempt to pay a tribute to the masterpiece that is J.R.R. Tolkien's. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

_In his novels,J.R.R. Tolkienmade a point of establishing that mortals remain mortal, even if they are permitted to enter the Undying Lands_ – LOTR Wikia

* * *

_It is finished._

He took a step back to survey his handiwork. White hair that shone in the golden sunlight streamed down his shoulders. His fair, youthful face lacked its usual cheer and instead bore a thoughtful frown. He took another step back and sat down on the green grass, carefully shifting his white robes so that they would not tangle as he crossed his legs.

The frown on his face slowly vanished; in its place was a look of sorrow as he gazed at what he had wrought.

_So insignificant, so unworthy. Yet fitting, in a way I can never give words to._

"Olorin?"

The youth, Olorin, turned and beheld a being of great beauty.

Clad in grey-blue robes, she approached him. Her ebony hair flowed out behind her and her breathtakingly beautiful visage shone with a soft light akin to that of the stars. Her blue eyes gazed upon him with compassion.

Olorin rose and knelt before her, taking her hand and pressed his lips against it.

"My lady, Nienna," he said in a soft, melodious voice. "Seldom do you leave your halls; I am honoured that you grace me with your presence."

The Ainu smiled. It was a sad smile, filled with compassion.

"My dear Olorin," she said, raising the Maiar's face. "I have felt your grief grow in the last thousand years. I have felt you mourning ever since you returned from Middle Earth. You have completed the task given to you and rather than rejoicing, you have become more withdrawn."

Olorin said nothing.

"Is it because of the mortals who came here?" inquired Nienna kindly. "The three halflings and the child of Aule? I know you were fond of them…"

"Forgive me, my lady, but 'fond' is too weak a word."

Olorin looked away from the Lady of Mercy, looking instead at what he had made. He felt a great sorrow in his heart, one that even the passage of time had failed to erase.

He did not want it to be erased.

"My lady," he began. "During my time in Middle Earth, I have met many people. I have learned from them, I have fought with them, argued with them, talked with them, laughed with them…"

Olorin trailed off, glancing at Nienna, who said nothing, but continued to gaze at him.

"…I spent over two thousand years in Middle Earth, but with the task laid before me, I never had time to stop and contemplate it. But for the last thousand years, I finally could."

Tears began to gather in Olorin's eyes.

"We are immortal, so we hardly realise it, but many lives of mortals have passed in the two thousand years I was in Middle Earth. Many of them who had aided me in my task. Many of them who had help lay the foundation for the success of my task. Many of them who did not live to see the end of Sauron's evil…"

He blinked, the tears falling.

"…many of them did not have long to enjoy the peace after Sauron's evil was ended."

Olorin released Nienna's hand and stood. His gaze was still on the edifice he built, but his thoughts were far away.

"It has been only a thousand years since it ended, yet to many, their names have already passed into the history of their people…and forgotten. Yet I remember them like it was only yesterday."

Olorin raised his hand and touched the edifice and slowly, began to recite the names.

_Ancient Fangorn, Treebeard…_

_Bumbling Barliman Butterbur…_

_Thorin Oakenshield…_

He remembered their faces, so clearly as though the thousand years since had not passed. He remembered Treebeard's rumbling voice, Butterbur's rapid speech and the proud fire that burned in Thorin's eyes.

_Theoden son of Thengel…_

_Boromir and Faramir sons of Denethor_

_Gimli son of Gloin…_

He remembered young Theoden, old by the measure of his people charging down the Pellenor Fields at the head of the Rohirrim, the prideful but ultimately noble Boromir and his humbler but even nobler brother Faramir, he remembered the fierce glint in Gimli's eyes, undimmed even as his body failed him in Valinor, mourned by his dearest friend Legolas.

_Aragorn son of Arathon…_

_Meriadoc Brandybuck…_

_Peregrin Took…_

He remembered the humility and the majesty of Elessar, the joy on his face when he could finally be with his beloved Evenstar, the mischief of Merry and his accomplice, Pippin. He remembered their bright voices, their eyes twinkling with mirth and boundless mischief.

"Fool of a Took," he muttered to himself before continuing.

_Radagast…_

_Beorn…_

_Tom Bombadil…_

He remembered his fellow Istari, easily distracted but ultimately loyal. He remembered the mighty skin changer, firm in his friendship and death incarnate to his enemies. He remembered the capering enigma that was Tom Bombadil and his lovely wife, Goldberry.

_Bilbo Baggins…_

_Samwise Gamgee…_

_Frodo Baggins…_

He remembered the fussiness of Bilbo but also remembered his strength and courage especially when he willingly gave up the Ring. He remembered the bumbling Sam, to him the epitome of loyalty. He remembered Frodo, his quite demeanour compounded by the heavy burden he bore into Mordor.

Olorin closed his eyes, the tears continuing to fall.

He _missed _them.

In so many ways, they had helped his task succeed. Without them, he would have failed. Without them, he would have never understood the ways of mortals…and even after spending over two thousand years with them, he could still never truly understand.

"Olorin," said Nienna, gently laying her hand on his shoulder. "Is this why you have built this?"

The Maiar nodded and stepped back to regard the stone monument he had built for them. It was a simple square block, but upon every inch of it was carved the names of every single Elf, Dwarf, Man, Hobbit…everyone who had touched his life and without knowing it, helped shoulder his burden.

"Their names would have already faded and their deeds already forgotten in Middle Earth," he said. "I did this to ensure that their names would never be forgotten."

"Why did you not ask for Aule to help you?" asked Nienna, tracing one of the names with her fingers. "He could have made something more magnificent, something worthy of them."

Olorin shook his head.

"There is nothing any of us can do that would do justice to their memories," he said. "In so many ways, my lady, this simple stone actually suits them. Many of them led simple lives, they were flawed…and yet because of that, it made everything so…"

Olorin trailed off, unable to find a word worthy of them.

Nienna, moved by the depth of Olorin's feelings, went to him and kissed him on his brow.

"My dear Olorin," she said. "Long have you mourned them, long have you held them in your heart. The burden must be…"

"It is not a burden, my lady," said Olorin. "I will hold them in my heart, till the day this world is ended. I will never forget."

Nienna smiled sadly at her greatest pupil and turned to the monument, marveling at its simplistic beauty.

"They must have been remarkable indeed, to touch your heart so, Olorin…" she began.

"Gandalf," came a gruff voice that quavered with same grief felt by Olorin.

Nienna turned and in place of the tall, beautiful youth was a wizened old man, his beard was long and his body bent as though bearing the weight of the world itself. His eyes however, were the same as her pupils, sapphire blue and they were still brimming with tears.

"I prefer Gandalf," said the old man, looking at the monument, shining in the golden sunlight.

May your names never be forgotten.

"Gandalf was what they called me."

-END-

This fic was, ironically, inspired by a chapter in Richard A. Knaak's _World of Warcraft: Night of the Dragon_. This is the particular bit that inspired this:

"_I remember the name of every brave human, elf, dwarf, tauren, earthen, orc, dragon and individuals from other races whom I have been forced to need throughout the centuries! I recall all their faces and the manners by which so many of them perished! Each time I sleep, the litany plays in my dreams and I mourn their brave souls! And if my life could bring them all back, I would do it, Kalecgos! Make no mistake about that…and remember, among our kind, too many of those lost were my very sons and daughters…"_ –Korialstrasz-

I have often wondered if Gandalf felt the same way over the years.


End file.
